T rid of that ice you've been making. You're racing dogs, not ice plants." They pawed the ice from their eyes, and thawed it out from between their toes with their warm tongues. And "Scotty," too, was obliged to remove the ice from his lashes before he could be sure of his bearings. "Now then," as they had divested themselves of their glistening coats, "the worst is over, and off we go." At times the hard smooth trail wound like a silver ribbon under the pale glow of the Aurora. Then, with flying feet, they sped along the edge of deep gorges, up steep slopes, and over the glare ice of rivers and lakes. But the distance between them and the other teams was now gradually lessening, and at Timber Road House they had made up half of the time lost in Candle. Here they had the next "big sleep," lying on clean straw on the floor beside Allan, whose closeness calmed their nerves. It was a great comfort to be able to place a paw on him, or sociably lick his hand--for they felt that all was well if they were but within reach of their master's touch. They awoke full of renewed energy. "Scotty" was harnessing them for the last long run, with the help of his brother Bill, and Paul Kegsted, who had charge of that relay s